Tea Among Friends
by ScribeOfRED
Summary: Ignis has a horribly sore throat.


**For Celestial, who requested #23 off the tumblr sickfic prompts list. Part three of the _box of remedies_ series.**

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"Ignis, please sit down and rest."

For not the first time today—nor, undoubtedly, the last—Ignis waves a hand before returning to rummaging about in his bag of supplies. "I'm fine."

His voice comes out as a rather atrocious croak, and he is by no means unaware of the shared look Pelna and Nyx try to sneak past him, guilty and nervous and worried all rolled into one. He'd sigh, but he knows from recent experience that forcing extra air through his infection- and smoke-ravaged throat causes pain he can otherwise avoid, so instead he focuses on retrieving one of the precious few bags of tea he brought with him. If only he'd known he would want more, he could have sacrificed a shirt or a pair of socks to free up the necessary space.

"You're really not fine," Nyx says after a weighty silence, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at Ignis over the top of the flickering campfire. "We should have known the smoke would make things worse. And I know you don't want to return to Insomnia—"

"We are not—" A cough steals the rest of Ignis's words—and breath—away, and it takes him long moments to master himself once more. But control is what he's out here to learn, and so control is what he takes, first of his breathing, then of his extremities when he notices his fingers trembling around the mug he's clutching. "—not going back to Insomnia," he finishes in what might as well be a whisper. Six, his throat _hurts_. "Not until we're done."

"All right," Nyx replies, and although he doesn't move, Ignis can too easily imagine him holding up his hands as he tries to appease a skittish animal. Which Ignis is _not_. He's _fine_. Sore, yes, but by no means dying or any such nonsense.

"But training's postponed." Pelna drops onto one of the logs squared up to the campfire and stretches his hands out toward the hungry flames, as though he could possibly be cold after spending most of the day flinging fire in Ignis's general direction. "It's not like this is life or death or anything."

Ignis wants to protest that it will one day be necessary for him to work through any ailments or hindrances he might have and now's the ideal time to practice, but Nyx jumps in before he can coax his aching throat into cooperating. "Pelna's right, we're risking permanent harm by staying out here as it is."

"But—"

Nyx motions toward Ignis's empty mug as he leans forward to lift their compact kettle out of the fire. "No buts. You need to let that throat rest. We'll pick up training when you can string more than a few words together again, all right?"

This is a battle Ignis knows he'll only win once he can speak properly again, so he dips his head and holds out his mug. The fragrant steam of his favorite tea seems to ease the raw hurt, if only a little, and he resigns himself to an evening of silence. What an inconvenient time and place to contract a case of what he strongly suspects is laryngitis.

Except the evening isn't as silent as he expects—Nyx and Pelna keep up a friendly, casual discussion, and they don't exclude Ignis from it either, although he cannot help noticing the way they formulate questions so he can respond with simple yes-or-no and even nonverbal answers. Nor does it escape his attention that the kettle's kept perpetually full. They even go to the trouble of retrieving it whenever his mug gets a bit too empty, saving him from inhaling any more of the irritating campfire smoke than absolutely necessary.

It's... nice. As nice as things can be while suffering from severe throat pain, anyway. Much as he hates to admit it, he'd be worse off were he out here north of Caem without Nyx and Pelna offering him their support and their experience—and their company. If his voice isn't better tomorrow, he could at least be stuck listening to worse people.

And when Pelna offers him a few bags of his tea out of his own little stash to bolster Ignis's diminishing supply, he has to smile. Once he can talk without being scolded, he'll enquire after their favorite meals and surprise them once they return to Insomnia. After all, good acts of friendship should always be reciprocated. They might even appreciate the humor of the unspoken thank you.


End file.
